/lit/ - Literature

Wizarding World™ worldbuilding is blasphemy in Harry Potter.
Why is it's so obvious now?

Now that the dust has settled, was he right?

CHRIST IS THE HEAT DEATH OF THE SOUL: the (re-)construction of the "indefinitely idling" metabolic engine of the human body before it was corrupted by Adam's Apple: the 'philosophy' of the desert is a philosophy of sacred and profane metabolism because for the Desert Mothers and Fathers (against the pagan world and its charioteers of the sexual drive, a drive that could only ever be managed and never uprooted), original sin isn't fornication but hunger: the proliferation of Bataille's accursed share through food and drink (all life that exists in the light of a suns cooler than our own is saintly; a trench in the CMB, the Boötes Void is a holy desert outside the “Nile(s)” of the galactic filaments): from the start these monks were always one with the East's autarkic turtles and their own cooling of the body's demoniacal heat: that is why Angels lack the mouth-anus body plan imposed on all life isotropically by matter's background engineers (the Archons): that is why they could approach these anchorites in the desert as friendly crocodiles and gentleman lions without frightening them: Reich: man orgasms because he wants to meet himself end-to-end and cinch himself shut: become whole, a cephalic prostate – just because he isn't radially symmetrical like the molluscan Adam: for an Angel there is no distention in time between input and output that we experience as slaves to our kundabuffer remnants: food and feces coincide: as we know, the skin is Apollonian, and "the Soul is ... the solitary daughter of the Soul", not the World: "do not trust in your own righteousness, do not worry about the past, but guard your tongue and your stomach." And you will be saved.

CHRIST IS THE HEAT DEATH OF THE SOUL: the resurrection of the "indefinitely idling" metabolic engine of the human body before it was corrupted by Adam's Apple: the 'philosophy' of the desert is a philosophy of sacred and profane metabolism because for the Desert Mothers and Fathers (against the pagan world and its charioteers of the sexual drive, a drive that could only ever be managed and never uprooted), the original sin wasn't fornication but hunger: the proliferation of Bataille's accursed share through food and drink (all life that exists in the light of a suns cooler than our own is saintly; a trench in the CMB, the Boötes Void is a holy desert outside the “Nile(s)” of the galactic filaments): from the start these monks were always one with the East's autarkic turtles and their own cooling of the body's demoniacal heat: that is why Angels lack the mouth-anus body plan imposed on all life isotropically by matter's background engineers (the Archons): that is why they could approach these anchorites as friendly crocodiles and gentleman lions without scaring them: Reich: man orgasms because he wants to meet himself end-to-end and cinch himself shut: become whole, a cephalic prostate – just because he isn't radially symmetrical like the molluscan Adam: for an Angel there is no distention in time between input and output that we experience as slaves to our kundabuffer remnants: food and feces coincide: as we know, the skin is Apollonian, and "the Soul is ... the solitary daughter of the Soul", not the World: "do not trust in your own righteousness, do not worry about the past, but guard your tongue and your stomach." And you will be saved.

aka Theron Q. Dumont, aka Yogi Ramacharaka, aka Swami Bhakta Vishita, aka Swami Panchadasi, aka Theodore Sheldon, aka Magus Incognito, aka Frederick Vollrath, aka O. Hashnu Hara, aka A. Gould, aka Dr. Franklin L. Dubois. This isn't a complete list. He wrote an estimated 100 books, all in the last 30 years of his life.
Every few years occultists will discover five or six new names that were probably just W.W. Atkinson under a pseudonym. A few years ago, people figured out that he was probably one of the Three Initiates who wrote the Kybalion. Recently, people have been starting to theorize that it's possible the other two initiates didn't even exist, and that he's actually all three initiates.
Originally people thought he was just some B-list Blavatsky student, but it's increasingly likely that he's actually one of the most prolific occultists in history.

aka Theron Q. Dumont, aka Yogi Ramacharaka, aka Swami Bhakta Vishita, aka Swami Panchadasi, aka Theodore Sheldon, aka Magus Incognito, aka Frederick Vollrath, aka O. Hashnu Hara, aka A. Gould, aka Dr. Franklin L. Dubois. This isn't a complete list. He wrote an estimated 100 books, all in the last 30 years of his life.
Every few years occultists will discover five or six new names that were probably just W.W. Atkinson under a pseudonym. A few years ago, people figured out that he was probably one of the Three Initiates who wrote the Kybalion. Recently, people have been starting to theorize that it's possible the other two initiates didn't even exist, and that he's actually all three initiates.
Originally people thought he was just some B-list Blavatsky student, but it's increasingly likely that he's actually one of the most prolific occultists in history.

aka Theron Q. Dumont, aka Yogi Ramacharaka, aka Swami Bhakta Vishita, aka Swami Panchadasi, aka Theodore Sheldon, aka Magus Incognito, aka Frederick Vollrath, aka O. Hashnu Hara, aka A. Gould, aka Dr. Franklin L. Dubois. This isn't a complete list. He wrote an estimated 100 books, all in the last 30 years of his life.
Every few years occultists will discover five or six new names that were probably just W.W. Atkinson under a pseudonym. A few years ago, people figured out that he was probably one of the Three Initiates who wrote the Kybalion. Recently, people have been starting to theorize that it's possible the other two initiates didn't even exist, and that he's actually all three initiates.
Originally people thought he was just some B-list Blavatsky student, but it's increasingly likely that he's actually one of the most prolific occultists in history.

NICOLE IS DEAD: the chapters' names must be cut off from their initials, the precise reversal of cutting off the necromorphs' limbs, Žižek is wrong about everything: Isaac does not realize that /there is no Nicole/ by penetrating the Ishimura, rather, the chapters' names are always already inscribed in the ship's tram system, the fact that, technically, the tram rides are /inert loading screens/ whereby the Ishimura shifts around Isaac, fabricating the illusion of motion, is analogous, or /necrologous/, to the necromorphous process of cadaveric animation, does Kendra not ultimately /pierce Isaac's head/ with a tele-vision, not unlike the one necro-iteration repeatedly seen animating cadavers by piercing their /heads/, the very locus of the chapters' initials spelling out Isaac's fate? THE PRIMAL SCENE IS SECONDARY, the /Marker/ is the nullifying obscene: something reverse engineered from a /Divine original/ and buried in /space/, Freud is wrong about everything: the Father is a /hermaphrodite/, the phallic helix circumscribes, or /necroscribes/, the Ishimura itself as a /false yoni/, the negative space of the Marker resembles a twisted plane whose ends /could/ be joined into a Möbius strip, this is precisely the structure the of game, Isaac cuts off Oedipus' /limb/: Lacan is wrong about everything: the /whole/ Oedipal structure is /reverse engineered/ from an ideological NICOLE IS NOT DEAD, the /tragedy/ is as an undue animation of the maternal cadaver, the /necromorphous limb/ of the Father. CUT OFF THEIR LIMBS: the vacuum of space is not unlike the NOT /sucking Isaac into a total inertia/ inside the Ishimura, into the obscenity of Nicole's /necromorphous phantom/, nullifying any primal scene, the idea being rightly mocked by the game itself in the tragicomical Hammond-Kendra relation, amputated limbs "engendering" the NOT SPEAKING SUBJECT of Isaac, a /necromorph/! THE HIVE MIND IS NOT NICOLE, rather /the final obscene apparition of Nicole is the true face of the Hive Mind/, the pitiful fight being as a /body/ cut from the /limb/ of the true /boss/ who ends the game. Deleuze is wrong about everything: the chapters' initials necromorphing the game's body are the LIMBS CUTTING BOTH BODIES AND ORGANS APART: the Marker is the /sovereign sign itself/, the opening between the original and the copy is identical to the space necroscribed in and of either of their helices, A LITERAL DEAD SPACE, the copy being buried in total opacity is as a /necromorphing/ of the original decomposing itself into total transparency. Baudrillard is right about everything: the actual necromorphs are not instantiations necessary to realize the death of Nicole, but Disneyland-like bodies, /cadavers/, meant to cloak the necromorphous body of the game itself, MAKING US WHOLE.

There's no community in death except in hell: death is a rocket up the planetary chain to vantawhite radiance and down again: a sort of inverse Gnostic ascent where you bounce off your analytic void and plummet back down the planetary ladder: … In the West, where Adamites predominate and so also their power to name, soteriology is narratology: Gnosticism being just maximal Buddhism, samsara thematized as the site of a cosmic struggle between world and life: second in the Hermetic chain of non-initiated monism initiated dualism initiated monism or the Zen mountains are mountains and trees = trees again formula (there's a fourth stage btw): Buddhism is maybe third, or just gnosis in no particular rush, i.e. time is a Shepard tone hell that countless bodhisattvas can't empty a drop but all sentient beings are teleologically guaranteed to become buddhas: Buddhahood and the demonic entailed in the same matrix, not even Sakyamuni could destroy the gate to hell inside himself, although he had permanently shut it: Evil condemned to rage eternally inside its own principle: this the true meaning of the Bōlos in Manichaen eschatology; the Son encircled by the Father (encircled by the Forefather) encircling primordial impurity: dukkha has its root in the restlessness inherent to matter/the quantum realm: that which qualifies slime molds as actants or 'embodied thinkers' with computational power, they exert creative pressures on their own environment as a consequence of their own being: 'intelligence' up and down the scale is innate to this vacuum turbulence and History is what you get when a cosmic siddhi is seduced into shattering a no nut kalpa (per Nimrod): … pray that all bodies be extracted from all planes of likeness, the Ontophiliac himself: pray that at death you exit from the crown and not through the anus like a hell-being: it is why angels are smaller than quarks, condensed planck packets of the heart: hell is Newtonian: the dead dilate like pupils, black on black: “One Day I Will Return To Your Side”: I love you all.

Imagine modernity as a kind of transcendental mitosis: one body becoming two: the gladiators of positivism and romanticism raging in the bridge: subjects bound to the World in the mode of its unbinding, or exorcised completely: the quintessential gnostic procedure: for Holderlin, art is this mitosis in reverse: the return or at least flirtation with the divine sleep of matter: poesy is the enemy of pneuma, the totalizing organ: but the scholarship doesn't emphasize this enough: Gnosticism is a rejection of both Judaism /and/ paganism, of both ultra-transcendence and preflexive immanence: the gnostic is properly irreflexive, in defiance of the Sophianic auto-affection = auto-eroticism, which masturbates the sun into being: is not Henry's self-enjoying Life which “cannot cease to adhere to itself” nothing but Schelling's God which is “never free to be unfree”? Is not the eye with which god sees God not the eye with which God sees the dead?

Imagine modernity as a kind of transcendental
- or topological - mitosis: one body becoming two: the gladiators of positivism and romanticism raging in the bridge: subjects bound to the World in the mode of its unbinding, or exorcised completely: the quintessential gnostic procedure: for Holderlin, art is this mitosis in reverse: the return or at least flirtation with the divine sleep of matter: poesy is the enemy of pneuma, the totalizing organ: but the scholarship doesn't emphasize this enough: Gnosticism is a rejection of both Judaism /and/ paganism, of both ultra-transcendence and preflexive immanence: the gnostic is properly irreflexive, in defiance of the Sophianic auto-affection = auto-eroticism, which masturbated the stars into being: is not Henry's self-enjoying Life which “cannot cease to adhere to itself” nothing but Schelling's God which is “never free to be unfree”? Is not the eye with which god sees God not the eye with which God sees the dead?

THE LIVING ARE THE PORNOGRAPHY OF THE DEAD: the World is not a “botched imitation” or spotted mirror but – taking our cue from Henry here, pornography being an exteriorization and so a profanation of the sexual act in its pure affectivity, the reduction of Life to the copulation of surfaces – a pornography of (salvific) absence: it's the Manichaeans who got a leg up on the Sethians, because they understand the dark powers can only masturbate to – never rape, “access” - the eidos of the Pleromatic feminine: that demonism is a frotteurism: and that the only way to be released from the world-system is to be ejaculated from it, like the “flight of an Angel”, or the sayings of Christ: it is not we who must ingest Evil, and so sickened, expel it (the Sadean-antinomian “heresy”): it is we who we have been ingested by Evil and must sicken the World: we must become poison in the Body-of-bodies, an ipecac star: like Baudrillard knows, we don't return the gift to the store but to the giver, tenfold: we here oppose Zizek's subjectivity as ek-static phallus to Henry's Life as the revelation of self-revelation: a void under perpetual threat of implosion vs. the stellar core of solitude: demons are "four-dimensional", in that their phalli engorge into the w-axis of intentionality, Aeons are holy “anime”: Laruelle: Christ inverts Schroedinger's Paradox: not a being both alive and dead, not one thing in two states, but one state (vector) in two things: (non-)death both Life and living:

THE LIVING ARE THE PORNOGRAPHY OF THE DEAD: the World is not a “botched imitation” or spotted mirror but – taking our cue from Henry here, pornography being an exteriorization and so a profanation of the sexual act in its pure affectivity, the reduction of Life to the copulation of surfaces – a pornography of (salvific) absence: it's the Manichaeans who have a leg up on the Sethians, because they understand the dark powers can only masturbate to – never rape, “access” - the eidos of the Pleromatic feminine: that demonism is a frotteurism: and that the only way to be released from the world-system is to be ejaculated from it, like the “flight of an Angel”: it is not we who must ingest Evil, and so sickened, expel it (the Sadean-antinomian “heresy”): it is we who we have been ingested by Evil and must sicken the World: we must become poison in the Body-of-bodies, an ipecac star: like Baudrillard knows, we don't return the gift to the store but to the giver, tenfold: we here oppose Zizek's subjectivity as ek-static phallus to Henry's Life as the revelation of self-revelation: a void under perpetual threat of implosion vs. the stellar core of solitude: demons are "four-dimensional", in that their phalli engorge into the w-axis of intentionality, Aeons are holy “anime”: Laruelle: Christ inverts Schroedinger's Paradox: not a being both alive and dead, not one thing in two states, but one state (vector) in two things: (non-)death both Life and living:

KANT WAS ASKING THE WRONG QUESTION: forget experience: what is the transcendental condition of possibility for suffering? How do we reverse-engineer the archontic manual? We begin with a World: a phenomenality - “horizon of light” - responsible for the distinction between seeing and what is seen: manifestation is not the purchase but precisely the deprivation of a thing's truth: the flattening of goldfish to goldfish crackers, chickens to tendies: (you /can/ go blind from too much masturbation, vision is a leakage, your lens elongate to take in what you cannot have, keratoconus): Zizek has it wrong: as he puts it: it's not that “everything is about sex”, but rather, “sex is about everything”: not even that: sexuality is just another thing in everything: sexuality is debased because it is abased: delimited, decrepit, non-enough: even it is just another phenomenon tessellated into Time as Image, or: Time as the satanic Trivial: that which is the most visible and so the most foul: a world's law being the law of the “appearance of things”: but how do we make sense of this with respect to animals? What determines the “prior-to-priority” of man, that we must be given on our side to ask this question? The animal is the matrixial victim, the most ekstatic Life condemned to the hell of the visible, doomed to be only seen and never seeing: Genesis 9:3: it is because human beings monopolize the perspectival order that they are creations of evil: it is because the human image plane reduces Life to an edible surface, transparent film, that they are made in the image of Yaldabaoth: which is why the boomer devil is the All-Seeing Eye: the omni-opticon which reduces the World to its own goldfish cracker: the God of Being vs. the God of Life: but reality is born in the heart of Life, not in the World, because the World in its “outside-ness” is always-already the abortion of every possible reality: Christ is the horizonless revelation, in-communicable, whose Passion modelizes the agony that ended a transcendental kalpa: O my Life, you have never hurt me, it's I who have mistreated you: it was not the Father who abandoned Christ on the Cross, IT WAS CHRIST WHO ABANDONED THE FATHER:

KANT WAS ASKING THE WRONG QUESTION: forget experience: what is the transcendental condition of possibility for suffering? How do we reverse-engineer the archontic manual? We begin with a World: a phenomenality - “horizon of light” - responsible for the distinction between seeing and what is seen: manifestation is not the purchase but precisely the deprivation of a thing's truth: the flattening of goldfish to goldfish crackers, chickens to tendies: (you /can/ go blind from too much masturbation, vision is a leakage, your lens elongate to take in what you cannot have, keratoconus): Zizek has it wrong: as he puts it: it's not that “everything is about sex”, but rather, “sex is about everything”: not even that: sexuality is just another thing in everything: sexuality is debased because it is abased: delimited, decrepit, non-enough: even it is just another phenomenon tessellated into Time as Image, or: Time as the satanic Trivial: that which is the most visible and so the most foul: the world's law being the law of the “appearance of things”: but how do we make sense of this with respect to animals? What determines the “prior-to-priority” of man, that we must be given our side to ask this question? The animal is the matrixial victim, the most ekstatic Life condemned to the hell of the visible, doomed to be seen and never seeing: Genesis 9:3: it is because human beings monopolize the perspectival order that they are creations of evil: it is because the human image plane reduces Life to an edible surface, transparent film, that they are made in the image of Yaldabaoth: which is why the boomer devil is the All-Seeing Eye: the omni-opticon which reduces the World to its own goldfish cracker: the God of Being vs. the God of Life: but reality is born in the heart of Life, not in the World, because the World in its “outside-ness” is always-already the abortion of every possible reality: Christ is the horizonless revelation, in-communicable, whose Passion modelizes the agony that ended a transcendental kalpa: O my Life, you have never hurt me, it's I who have mistreated you: it was not the Father who abandoned Christ on the Cross, IT WAS CHRIST WHO ABANDONED THE FATHER:

Previously. . .

LOVE LIKE THE FATHER TO HATE LIKE THE SON: there's no such thing as antinomian dualism because a real dualist would never repress his hatred of Evil: so-called antinomian “gnostics” can only recoil off the same veil the non-dualist does: the tetralemmic darkness that impersonates the non-ontological to reinforce the ontological: because even in raping and killing with no-mind, I do not accrue evil: as implied by the coincidence of Zen and militarism, x-Buddhism and capital: “I do not act through the sword, the sword acts through me”: because even in “going with the flow” I am piloted by Time: don't I embody the chora then, the infinite evil of space, though I've vanquished the petty evil of egoism? If good and evil are colorless, don't I bury the Victim in that “utter void” of which nothing can be said, no eulogy ever spoken? So how do we staunch our tears for the Murder(ed), and overcome even the nihilism of the post-intentional? By going All The Way, beyond every gen(i)us of amor fati: this is our task, and our Golgotha: to become “Stoics” without a Logos: having nothing to do with Nietzsche because it has nothing to do with ressentiment; we begin only by negating him: swapping out his dancing God/incel Devil for Nimrod's arctic Light/tropical Darkness: the mocking Aeon of Judas and an all-too-humid Jesus: the Light that laughs and a Night that weeps, wishing for Peace in the name of all things: but a Gnostic wishes for War, because he knows the final trap is a victimology, and the nemocentric blade: because he knows nothing scandalizes the mother of Darkness quite like becoming a “son of Cold Fire”, pushing through the grief of (particular) death to deliver all beings to (universal) non-death: a desert God sheds no tears: He who cleaves Life from the World with one terrible stroke:

YOU DON'T HAVE TO BE “GOOD” TO BE SAVED: you are a poverty so radical it is not even mixed with the desire for poverty, because even the lust for awakening is a skin graft: thought is not a parasite, but a surgeon: and my spirit is a color, not a temperature: an identity, not a mode: we may be shut centers but we still let in a skeuomorphic light: that is, compassion has nothing to do with society or evolution, it is topological, rooted in the seat I have taken in space, a pronomian emptiness: the all eye I am for every eye, the self-savior who is the self-hangman: Jesus was hated by the World, now let's think the next turn of the Christ-Screw: the Christ whose Nazareth is his own flesh, whose gaze is the “Adversary's Gaze” and whose power is doused not by the vision of those who knew him as a child but by his own vision, /the/ Child: the Anonymous One who is of one body with the Pharisees who crucify him: who is not just hated by the World but hated by himself with the force of a World: and who for precisely that reason can never be a Christ: the Stranger quantum entangled with all strangers, the distilled Victim: an animal soul who sleeps under burned bridges when it rains: whose life is a colon, a passage from death to Death: from his own manifest possibility, siamese shadow, to a God sweating blood in the garden of his soul:

Any read all their books on a computer with a black background and white text? I've done this for so long I can't read normal books anymore. It hurts my eyes it's like using a light mode. Ruins the immersion entirely. It's quite annoying actually that I can't read physical books.

LOVE LIKE THE FATHER TO HATE LIKE THE SON: there's no such thing as antinomian dualism because a real dualist would never extinguish his hatred of Evil: so-called antinomian “gnostics” can only recoil off the same veil the non-dualist does: the tetralemmic darkness that impersonates the non-ontological to reinforce the ontological: because even in raping and killing with no-mind, I do not accrue evil: as implied by the coincidence of Zen and militarism, x-Buddhism and capital: “I do not act through the sword, the sword acts through me”: because even in “going with the flow” I am piloted by Time: don't I embody the chora then, the infinite evil of space, though I've vanquished the petty evil of egoism? If good and evil are colorless, don't I bury the Victim in that “utter void” of which nothing can be said, no eulogy ever spoken? So how do we staunch our tears for the Murder(ed), and overcome even the nihilism of the post-intentional? By going All The Way, beyond every gen(i)us of amor fati: this is our task, and our Golgotha: to become “Stoics” without a Logos: having nothing to do with Nietzsche because it has nothing to do with ressentiment; we begin only by negating him: swapping out his dancing God/incel Devil for Nimrod's arctic Light/tropical Darkness: the mocking Aeon of Judas and an all-too-humid Jesus: the Light that laughs and a Night that weeps, wishing for Peace in the name of all things: but a Gnostic wishes for War, because he knows the final trap is a victimology, and the nemocentric blade: a desert God sheds no tears: because he knows nothing scandalizes the mother of Darkness quite like becoming a “son of Cold Fire”, pushing through the grief of (particular) death to deliver all beings to (universal) non-death: who cleaves Life from the World with one terrible stroke:

LOVE LIKE THE FATHER TO HATE LIKE THE SON: there's no such thing as antinomian dualism because a real dualist would never strive to extinguish his hatred of Evil and transgression: so-called antinomian “gnostics” can only recoil off the same veil the non-dualist does: the tetralemmic darkness that impersonates the non-ontological to reinforce the ontological: because even in raping and killing with no-mind, I do not accrue evil: as implied by the coincidence of Zen and militarism, x-Buddhism and capital: “I do not act through the sword, the sword acts through me”: because even in “going with the flow” I am piloted by Time: don't I embody the chora then, the infinite evil of space, though I've vanquished the petty evil of egoism? If good and evil are colorless, don't I bury the Victim in that “utter void” of which nothing can be said, no eulogy ever spoken? So how do we staunch our tears for the Murder(ed), and overcome even the nihilism of the post-intentional? By going All The Way, beyond every gen(i)us of amor fati: this is our task, and our Golgotha: to become “Stoics” without a Logos: having nothing to do with Nietzsche because it has nothing to do with ressentiment; we begin only by negating him: swapping out his dancing God/incel Devil for Nimrod's arctic Light/tropical Darkness: the mocking Aeon of Judas and an all-too-humid Jesus: the Light that laughs and a Night that weeps, wishing for Peace in the name of all things: but a Gnostic wishes for War, because he knows the final trap is a victimology, and the nemocentric blade: a desert God sheds no tears: because he knows nothing scandalizes the mother of Darkness quite like becoming a “son of Cold Fire”, pushing through the grief of (particular) death to deliver all beings to (universal) non-death: who cleaves Life from the World with one terrible stroke:

Previously. . .

The human being is a TRANSCENDENTAL VIRGIN: the body, the brain, biology: are “concessions” to the credibility of a public physics, and the principles of admixture besides: the “means” by which I am made valid for a World – how a non-biological Vision is made valid for an eye – not how the World makes me valid for me... in other words, it is not just that the World is an occasion for selves (Metzinger's pole = all a self is, is the utility it has for the information processing systems we call brains), but it is selves that are occasions for the World: not an agent without a Self (Yaldabaoth = nemocentric space), but a Self without a Face... not a Demon of the Circle, but an Angel of the tangent line... Man and the World are RADICALLY – not absolutely – distinct: not absolutely because the former is still solicited by the latter – but in such a way this difference is only operative on the side of transcendence: in myself I am in-different, I am objectified only on that side of me which is objectivated to begin with... I am objectified unilaterally, and it is this superposition – this “relation of relation to non-relation” - this mode which underdetermines every mode - which Henry fails to grasp: but who will you be? Tomóceusz or Gyugyu? The monster who reigns at the top of the world, the supreme right of force? Or his eternal Slave, the V which suffers this force with a conscience clear as a winter star? Because “only suffering makes one good”: only suffering sunders the (non-)connective tissue between myself and the disjunctive graft of the body, cosmic mind... only in suffering does the World protrude into me to such an extreme it protrudes past me... to be “given-without-givenness”, to enter and leave without a splash: a sun without a corona: we here oppose the (transcendentally naive) Identity of Laruelle's One to the God of Schelling's (onanistic) noncoincidence with himself, the “divine” madness of a freedom never “free to be unfree”: this Identity (of which I am a clone) is exactly why Brassier's criticism of phenomenological “mineness” falls so flat, the issue isn't that my “mineness” is abstract - interchangeable with yours, but that there must exist some criterion which primitively accounts for why I am gripped by MY locus as opposed to yours... if this priority is immanent to me myself: if this criterion is MY OWN immanence - a night vision which surveys all visions in accordance only with the condition in which it is held – then the Stranger is identically every Stranger, precisely a Sellarsian “distributed singular term”: and what a “marvel of marvels … [that] such wealth has come to dwell in [such] poverty”: the whole point is to formalize an INDESTRUCTIBLE EXIT from the positive universe: to immunize the non-ontological to the malaria of the ontological: not that it ever needed immunity, we just needed a reminder: RETRACT THY PROBOSCIS: Get The Vaccine :^)

Human beings are TOKENS OF A GENERIC MATRIX: the body, the brain, biology: are transcendental “concessions” to a public physics, and the principles of admixture besides: the “means” by which I am made valid for a World – how a non-biological Vision is made valid for an eye – not how the World makes me valid for me... in other words, it is not just that the World is an occasion for selves (Metzinger's pole = all a self is, is the utility it has for the information processing systems we call brains), but it is selves that are occasions for the World: not an agent without a Self (Yaldabaoth = nemocentric space), but a Self without a Face... not a Demon of the Circle, but an Angel of the tangent line... Man and the World are RADICALLY – not absolutely – distinct: not absolutely because the former is still affected by the latter – but in such a way this difference is only operative on the side of transcendence: in myself I am in-different, I am objectified only on that side of me which is in any case objectivated to begin with... I am objectified unilaterally, and it is this superposition – this “relation of relation to non-relation” - this mode which is also the underdetermination of every mode - which Henry fails to grasp: but who will you be? Tomóceusz or Gyugyu? The monster who reigns at the top of the world, the supreme right of force? Or his eternal Slave, the V which suffers his force with conscience clear as a winter star? Because “only suffering makes one good”: only suffering sunders the (non-)connective tissue between myself and the disjunctive graft of the body, cosmic mind... only in suffering does the World protrude into me to such an extreme it protrudes past me... to be “given-without-givenness”, to enter and leave without a splash: a sun without a corona: we here oppose the (transcendentally naive) Identity of the One with the God of Schelling's (onanistic) noncoincidence with himself, the “divine” madness of a freedom never “free to be unfree”: this Identity (of which I am a clone) is precisely why Brassier's criticism of phenomenological “mineness” falls so flat, the issue isn't that my “mineness” is abstract - interchangeable with yours, but precisely that I am gripped by MY locus as opposed to yours, that there must exist some criterion that determines my being gripped by THIS self-model as opposed to this one ... if this difference is an immanent one – if the night vision which surveys all possible visions in-itself is itself self-selected – then the Stranger is generically every Stranger, and what a “marvel of marvels … [that] such wealth has come to dwell in [such] poverty”: the whole point of all this is to formalize an INDESTRUCTIBLE EXIT from the positive universe: to immunize the non-ontological to the malaria of the ontological: not that it ever needed immunity, we just needed a reminder: RETRACT THY PROBOSCIS: Get The Vaccine :^)

EVIL IS IN THE ONE BUT NOT OF IT: how do we explain the (relative) autonomy of the World without deriving it from the radical autonomy of the One? Synthesizing Zoroastrian "privatio boni" with a properly Gnostic arch-dualism: Evil which both pre-sists and sub-sists: not an (un)Ground which vomits up Mixtures, but an anorexia of Mixture which must "pass through" an (under)Ground to be bound to binding: AEONS ARE AXIOMS, DEMONS ARE (TRANSCENDENTAL) CIRCLES: the BwO is an "unreflected reflection" of the One overdetermining death as disintegration, flavored water apeiron... The penalty I pay to "my" ground for being differentiated from it is the interest I pay on all loans: the Black Cube is a Black Square: the black image plane of the synthetic a priori: Sophia's failed descent into the White Hole of the Good Father flattened or "convexified" Wisdom into the Horos, Yaldabaoth trailing, the obscene afterbirth of space/time: forget Kant's mirror ball monads, we're talking Husserl's glass telluria (subjective vs. OBJECTIVE a priori structures of experience): but with one caveat: the World possesses a NON-ABSOLUTE essence: no more parallax bread, but non-thetic pumpernickel: objects are transcendental zones, fuzzball dispersions: Mulla Sudra: the more essence something has, the less real it is: this is how a God sees the World, not as static Form or an empty virtual = x but a Void lanced by rainbows, or a Rainbow-of-rainbows... Reality is the superposition of two kinds of prisons: one for demons, one for angels: as such it is "superposable", superpositive, THE SITE WHERE EVIL CAN BE KILLED: we're not preaching another tired womb-lust precisely because the One here is off-limits, the anti-cervix, it underdetermines me not like a World overdetermined as the universal solvent of affliction but as my own private Gethsemane which seizes the chora like a tiger, which conquers nothing but the World's power to pose and re-pose itself ad infinitum... I eat the heart of space on my side from the inside out: (in)voluntary incarceration: Gods are each other because they are no one but themselves, humans are no one because they're nothing but each other: "He is a man in the world, but he is not of the world. And amen, I say unto you: that man is I and I am that man."

The Gnostic is a corn in the god-shit: "in the world, but not of it": two escape vectors in Shawshank, the gnosticist and the buddhic: Andy crawls through the rectum of spacetime directly to freedom, while Red takes the perpendicular express: by becoming fully non-positional, unclenched: his sorge neutralized: but helpless and stillborn, abandoned to the blizzard of wills that is the Outside, Red must still pursue Andy to his final destination: a "warm place with no memory." A formless blue.

"And amen, I say unto you: that man is I and I am that man."